Frozen Hearts
by Shadowfang3000
Summary: "Honour doesn't matter when it comes to survival." - When Sejuani is captured by Demacian forces, she is placed in prison while negotiations for her extradition are made. Until then she is forced to share a cell with a certain Noxian commander, whilst trying to survive in the violent prison environment.


(A/N) I've written fics for some pretty strange pairings in the past, but Swain and Sejuani? That just makes no sense!

I don't actually know where this idea came from, but I know it sums up a few previous ideas of mine. I've always wanted to write a fic that portrays Demacia in a highly negative light, contrasting the ideal image of a heroic and honourable nation.

It probably also stems from the fact that I love Swain, and I think his calm and strategic approach to life contrasts Sejuani's brute force greatly.

Now, this is less of a romance fic and more of a friendship one, so don't expect any Shakespearian kisses under the moonlight or anything: I don't enjoy being mushy all of the time!

WARNING: A bit more language than usual, some violence, lots spelling errors, OOC characters, bad attitude Swain and a kind of Tsundere Sejuani (!?)

**Frozen Hearts**

"Sejuani, leader of the Winter's Claw and claimant to the throne of the Freljord. I sentence you to confinement within the walls of our great keep 'til talks are concluded for extradition to Queen Ashe of the Avarosan."

"_God have mercy on your poor soul."_

The closing words of the Judge's verdict still echoed within her head, the image of his wrinkly, bearded face and his disgusted glare strengthening the feeling of isolation and vilification. Shackled and cuffed with little care for her comfort, the two burly guards that flanked her lead her away from the sickened gaze of the Demacian public. Clad in ornate golden armour and bearing elongated lances, they looked more like fictional superheroes than true soldiers to her.

Rounding a corner into a darkened corridor, the boos of the crowd were hastily muffled by the cobblestone walls and floors. She did her best to keep her footing, but the guards were moving far too quickly for comfort and she tripped over her own feet.

"Keep it moving." One of them growled, the stench of his breath outmatched by his ugly features. Hauling her up painfully, she couldn't help but speak back to him.

"Shove it up your ass, Demacian."

He gritted his teeth at this remark, but under the watchful eye of his colleague he didn't act on the impulse to slam her head into the deck. "I said keep it moving, go!"

Prodding her back with his polearm, she continued her forced march down the freezing hallway. She swore she could even hear the rattle of one guard's helmet, his body unsuited to the chill of the area.

_Thankfully she was a woman of the Freljord._

_Cut from the ice, shaped in the storms, and hardened in the cold._

It was pretty easy to decipher what the purpose of her planned extradition was. For years there had been a considerable distance between the knights of Demacia and the barbarians of the Freljord. While she would never accept any symbol of kinship from the scum of the lowlands, the Avarosan fools that ruled the throne were prone to the foul art of diplomacy.

_Ashe didn't want glory for her people, she just wanted to be a lapdog to Demacia._

Essentially she was to be a state gift: Despite years of eluding the warriors of the Avarosan and slaying more men than she could count, the Demacians had finally managed to detain her. They had no use for a woman like her, so why not toss the responsibility into the hands of someone who actually _wanted _her?

_Killing two birds with one stone._

After descending a seemingly endless staircase, the guards had finally taken her to their destination.

It was a corridor of prison cells, filled to the brim with criminals of varying sizes, colours and ranks. Rotting hands began to reach out between bars as she was escorted down the aisle, the men of the ward eager to feast their eyes on fresh meat.

"Heeey there gorgeous!" A man covered in tattoos cooed, trying to hold her hand as she went by.

"They're all after you, stay with me and I'll look after you lady!" Another one yelled, trying to lure her in with false promises of protection.

"Get your tits out love!" A weedy bloke cooed, banging against his cell bars rapidly.

A larger man whistled to himself in surprise, crouching low in his cell whilst straining to touch her rear. "Well ain't that a fine piece of-"

Sejuani wasn't exactly well known for her lenience or patience, so it probably didn't come as much of a surprise when she rammed herself into the bars and snapped the arm of the jeering man in twain. The guards couldn't care less about the condition of the criminal, and didn't even try to stop her as she did so.

"Say something like that again, and I'll break something much more sensitive next."

The man nodded furiously as he cradled the wound, the man he shared his cell with laughing at his misfortune. With that finished, the guards continued to march her down the halls as they desperately searched for a room with accommodation to spare.

She'd decided to behave herself for now, despite her drive to crack some skulls. She didn't enjoy being detained like this, nor did she enjoy being manhandled by two weaklings who had fought fewer battles than she did by the ripe old-age of twelve.

_And to be honest, she was afraid._

Having lived a life free of law for more than two decades, she'd never even considered what it was like to be caged up like a pathetic dog. She couldn't bare the prospect of being locked away; chained up forever.

Peering through the bars of a cell near the end of the ward, the guard she'd had a spat with gestured to his colleague. "Here, this'll do. Toss her in."

Uncuffing her roughly, the guard pulled the door open and nudged her into the room with the point of his lance. She complied with a groan, submitting to his commands before he slammed the door closed.

"Have fun in there kiddies." The ugly one grinned, locking the way in and winking at her teasingly. "Try not to kill eachother, hmm?"

Laughing at his own pathetic joke, the guard and his partner began the long trek down the hallway, calling for the inmates to quiet down as they went. With them out of the way, Sejuani turned around to survey the room she'd be calling home for the next few weeks.

_Or if the negotiations went stale, the rest of her life._

There wasn't much to say about the uniform cell. Bare and depressing, a single bunk bed sat in the corner, as well as a small bucket that must've contained all sorts of hideous liquids beyond her wildest imagination. Save for that it was empty, these two items taking up almost a full half of the room.

There was also a man sat on the floor, resting his back against the bedframe and bearing a small crow in his hands. He didn't turn to greet her, nor did he try to eat her face off upon her entry.

_That's a start._

Relationships and conversations weren't exactly a strong point for Sejuani. For the most part her interactions with other human beings consisted of slamming a flail into their face and slamming her _fist_ into their face, so trying to interact with this man wasn't going to be easy.

She decided to start simply. "Hello?"

The man didn't reply. He didn't even seem to register that the word had been spoken, preening the feathers of his carrion companion with expert efficiency. Examining him once more, she couldn't help but notice the strange positioning of his right leg.

_It was broken._

Yet he didn't look pained by it at all, not even in his uncomfortable looking arrangement on the floor. She tried again with a more hostile tone, suddenly feeling superior over this frail man. "Oi, I'm talking to you. Hello?"

"I know you are." He muttered irritably, his crow giving her the birdy equivalent of a bitter glare. "Will you kindly stop?"

The man hadn't turned to speak, nor did he even move a muscle. It was almost as if the crow was speaking to her, the man himself being nothing more than a shell. She felt highly insulted by this man's mere existence, let alone his rudeness towards her. In her eyes only the physically powerful deserved a right to life, and this cripple before her reeked of feebleness and reliance.

_His life was forfeit._

"I'd prefer to know who I'm sharing a sty with first." She scoffed, folding her arms and stepping towards the inferior man. "Go on, give me a name."

"Sejuani of the Winter's Claw." He said casually, the crow's beak pecking at his shoulder rhythmically. "Will that suffice?"

At first it scared her that this man knew of her name. However, in retrospect it must've meant that he'd simply heard of her famed exploits in the Freljord. As a claimant to the throne, who _wouldn't_ have heard of her?

"No, I don't know who you are. That was a simple guess." He added, his head finally rotating to look her in the eye. His irises burned with a fury she'd never encountered before, his expression glued to an eternally neutral state.

_His stare alone made her weak at the knees._

Something about this man was off. He came across as far more powerful than he seemed, his resolve firm despite her admittedly terrifying presence.

"Correct." She replied, pausing to hold back a stutter. "I am Sejuani, rightful ruler to the throne and leader of the free people of the mountains."

"Delightful." He muttered, turning back to his crow. "Silence please."

He was quickly becoming extremely irritating, having stepped past her question with ease. Marching in front of him and crouching to be in his line of sight, she did the first thing that came to mind to establish her dominance.

She stomped on his leg.

If it hurt him at all, he didn't seem to really register it. A moment or two afterwards he finally spared her a glance, his eyelids low and lazy. "That wasn't needed."

_He was mocking her._

"Tell me your name, you filthy old cripple!" She yelled, garnering a couple of curious glances from the other cells. The man's bird raised its wings aggressively, as if trying to shield him with its body.

"My crow is Beatrice." He replied casually, patting its back to calm it down. Beatrice slowly lowered her wings, never letting her stare falter. "And she isn't a cripple, she is actually rather healthy for her age."

The crow gave its best attempt at a smug grin, much to Sejuani's irritance. "Your _name_."

"Jericho Swain." He said bluntly, leaning forward to pull his withered leg away from her iron boot. "You sweat-reeking barbarian."

She had heard of the man before, his fame spawning from his command of the armies of Noxus. He had led the military to many a victory against the Demacians, so it surprised her to find him locked up and captured. She didn't react to his additional comment in a hope to come across as more powerful, but both of them knew that Swain was winning this exchange of insults. With nothing else to say and her question finally answered, she simply stopped the conversation.

Pacing the room out of boredom, Sejuani tried to analyse the current situation she was in. She was currently locked in a small three metre by three metre cell with a strange old man and a bucket full of piss. Strangely enough she'd been in much weirder positions in the past, ranging from being trapped under a pile of dead bodies to having her fist glued to the bloody corpse of a wild boar after punching it too hard.

_She was so hungry._

_So thirsty._

_So tired._

She hadn't eaten a proper meal for nearly a month, having survived through hunting whilst on the run from Demacian manhunters. During the last three days of their daring chase, she had to keep moving and had no time to eat or drink.

She wanted to get some kip on the dust-ridden mattress of the bunk, but the adrenaline of fear still kept her going. While she would have no trouble fending for herself against the perverted grease-buckets that filled the ward, she wouldn't stand a chance against packs. A warrior woman could hold her own for a while, but against such great odds she would be entirely at the mercy of her foes.

_She would know; it was how she was conceived._

So instead she leant against the rusting bars that restrained her, trying to enjoy the rather limited scenery. She could spot a couple of other cells, their inhabitants slouched in their bunks and having private conversations. She was annoyed that she couldn't see the cell of the man whose arm she snapped, wishing to see his anguish and torment.

_She revelled in the pain she inflicted._

Glancing back she noticed that Swain still hadn't moved a muscle, his frail leg outstretched in an agonising position. Beatrice was still staring at her, keeping constant vigil and watch for the foreign intruder of her den. The crow was making her uncomfortable, part of her convinced that Swain was secretly watching her through the bird.

"Oi, sweet-thing!" A guttural voice rumbled, whistling to grab her attention. She knew that she should've just stepped back, but curiosity made her turn to the source. Across from the cell was another inmate, an unkempt and greasy beard sprouting from his chin and his head bare of hair. "That cripple can't care for ladies! Need someone to talk to?"

Following the basic procedure of flipping the bird, she span around and hopped into her bunk. The frame creaked at the sudden weight, yet she managed to swing her leg over and flop onto her back.

_Swain still didn't move._

"... Do you ever move?" She asked curiously, begging for a conversation with the old man. While she certainly didn't like him, she would prefer to talk to him than one of the random convicted rapists in the ward. Beatrice squawked loudly before quickly launching herself onto her bunk. After waddling forward a few steps, the crow was barely a metre away from her face.

"If I need to do so, I shall." Swain sighed, Beatrice tilting her head as he spoke. "There is no reason to move currently, so why should I?"

She had no real argument against his logic, so she didn't reply.

Beatrice continued to lurk around her for a few minutes, but eventually she grew bored and hopped back down to her master. Sejuani noticed how the crow landed on Swain's head before stepping over to his shoulder, the man not flinching as it did so.

Silence filled the air for around four minutes. Sejuani closed her eyes, but she simply couldn't surrender to allure of slumber. It was strange that it became more difficult to fall asleep the more tired you were, but it was a sensation she had grown used to over her years in the frozen icelands of the Freljord.

The mystics of her tribe often diagnosed her with acute insomnia, yet she had refused every single magical remedy they offered her. She wasn't a fan of medicine, believing that the use of such drugs was a symbol of weakness. If a human being could heal their selves of wounds over time, why should she rely on drugs for comfort?

_Trial through fire._

_What doesn't kill me makes me stronger._

She'd survived many illnesses over her lifetime, at one point purposefully getting an illness to test her might. Yet no matter what she did, there was just no cure for her sleepless nights.

So there she lay, exhausted to an extreme degree yet having no method to try and rest efficiently. Laying back and staring at the web-coated ceiling, she just daydreamed about the life she had left behind.

She wondered what had happened to her close friend Bristle, the Boar having been left behind by the manhunters after they knocked him unconscious. She assumed that he had adjusted to life in the wild, and was pleased with the belief that he was safe.

_Ride on, my friend._

_Run free, you've deserved it._

"Slop's on!" A voice sudden yelled, a chorus of cheers echoing through the ward. A rustle of feet slapping against the cool floor and the clang of faces being squished against bars polluted the halls as a group of prison guards marched down the aisle, passing extremely small and bare containers of food to inmates at each cell. She noticed how one of them instantly snatched the food out of a guard's hands and started scoffing the contents, his body stick-thin and his eyes manic.

It was likely that meals were rarely given in this prison, the Demacian government seeing no need to care for scum that were on the way to the executioner's block. The guards eventually reached the end of the aisle, tossing two small containers of mush into Sejuani and Swain's cell. In addition, a small bottle of water was rolled in a moment later, the guard staring at her chest briefly before leaving.

_That's men for you._

She eyed the containers from afar for a moment, wondering if she should grab one of them. She was beginning to feel the toll of her malnutrition, her vision blurring and her limbs weakening. However, despite this setback her heart told her to ignore the foul food that had been offered to her.

_She would not submit._

Swain had other ideas, and reached back into his bunk to pull out a crooked stick. Pushing the stick against the ground as a makeshift crutch, he wobbled to his feet and limped a few steps forward to the containers. Leaning over shakily, he grabbed one for himself and pushed the other one to the side, making sure that it wasn't in front of anyone's path.

"There is food here, aren't you hungry?" Swain asked, looking up at the supine woman. She shook her head in reply, much to his confusion. "Very well."

Sitting back down in his spot on the floor, he leant his crutch against the bunk and placed the container on his lap. Beatrice had been sitting calmly on his shoulder the entire time, eager for a bite from the meal he had on hand. Peeling the container open, he was welcomed by the disgusting sight of some sort of mushy potato product.

_If eyes could puke._

Sejuani continued observing curiously as the man pulled out a small, rusted fork that had been inside the container. Spearing a chunk of the substance, he raised it and offered it to his carrion companion who happily pecked at it a few times. Beatrice reeled back with a soft and approving caw, prompting Swain to reach for the cloth mask that covered his face.

The mask had been a source of curiosity for Sejuani since she had arrived in the cell, shrouding half of his face from view. She wondered what he could be hiding under it, be it a shroud for some sort of scar or wound from battles long gone.

Peeling the mask away revealed that she was indeed correct, a long scar reaching across his mouth from tip to tip. Swain didn't seem too bothered by it as he opened his mouth, eating the jelly-mush with apparent ease.

It was revolting to see him eat the crap that they were feeding the inmates, yet Sejuani's stomach still rumbled for sustenance.

"You should eat." Swain said, feeding another lump of food to Beatrice. "They don't give meals out around here often, consider yourself lucky."

"I'm not going to eat some foul Demacian gruel! I would never give them bastards the satisfaction of seeing me do so!" Sejuani spat, glaring at him aggressively. He didn't flinch at her anger, replying without missing a beat.

"Honour doesn't matter when it comes to survival." He sighed, chewing quietly as he spoke. "You need to let go of your pride to stay alive in here."

"Okay." Sejuani growled, swinging her legs over the side and leaping off of the bunk. Stomping past the old man, she snatched the second container from the floor and held it aloft. "This?"

"Yes." He replied, having been watching her this entire time. Shaking the container to make sure that she had his attention, she turned around and tossed it out of the cell.

"Like hell."

Swain didn't respond in any way, simply turning back to his meal and closing the container. Beatrice pecked at it in hope of getting more, but he was having none of it. Bending down to look under the bunk, he slid the box into a collection of other food containers that were likely half full.

_He was stockpiling food._

_Like a hibernating bear._

She turned to return to her bunk, yet froze when she heard a familiar voice yelling down the corridor.

"Oi, you at the back there!"

_It was the ugly guard from before._

After a few moments of shuffling heavy-armour, the knight appeared at the cell bars with an angered scowl filling his face. "Oh, I'm sorry: Is Demacian cooking not up to your standard?"

"That was the cooking? God, that explains the breath." Sejuani scoffed, continuing her walk unimpeded and reaching to pull herself onto her bunk.

"Want to say that to my face?" The guard asked, trying his best to start trouble. Sejuani would've gladly smashed his face in, but she was feeling increasingly faint as the hunger raged on.

"Piss off." She muttered bluntly. He already had his key on hand, and slammed it into the lock within seconds. With a bitter snarl he pulled the door open and marched into the cell, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her back. Knowing that she couldn't resist, she let him violently bring her out of the cell and cast her to the floor.

"Right then, you filthy bitch." He spat, ready to give her a beating. "I hear you've smashed a lot of faces out in the Freljord. Let me show you how that feels."

All of the inmates pressed against their prison bars, amazed to have a show and a meal at the same time. It was always fun to see a beating, but the entertainment was doubled when it was a woman getting done in.

"Ready for a show boys?" The knight laughed, grabbing Sejuani by the collar and hauling her up. The inmates roared in approval, one or two of the more depraved criminals telling him to humiliate her as he did so. Swain simply sat in his spot and watched, not really interested in the proceedings.

The knight swung a punch right at her nose, sending a spike of pain through her body. With no way to fight back, she did the first thing that came to mind and shielded her face. Seeing that she did this, he lowered his fist and started swinging at her stomach, winding her and sending her into a bitter coughing fit. The inmates howled with laughter as she keeled over in a pained ball, her shaky arms trying to keep her steady.

_What she'd give to be able to fight back._

Circling around her, he launched a kick at her stomach and flipped her onto her back. The jeering crowd whistled and spat at her as he stomped at her blindly. Blood and bruises coated her body as she gave up on resisting, letting the man beat her within an inch of her life.

_And then he stopped._

The weight of his foot was released from her stomach, and he backed away from her. Sneaking a peek through her arms, she spotted a crutch pointed at the knight's face. The inmates had all gone silent at this, as an old cripple stood tall against one of the prison guards.

"The hell do you want, old man?" The guard growled, standing almost a full foot taller than Swain. Beatrice raised her wings aggressively, squawking at the guard angrily.

"I've experienced what it's like to have a body part slowly cracked open." Swain said calmly, running the point of his crutch down the knight's arm teasingly. "It's actually quite an interesting sensation. Want to try it out?"

The knight considered opening a can of whoop ass on this crazed man, but decided against it as the rest of his shift arrived. Spitting at the sprawled out woman one last time, he stomped away grumpily.

Staring at him until he left, Swain proceeded to crouch down to analyse Sejuani's condition. She would've gotten up for him, but she couldn't feel her legs. "Hold on."

"W-Why..." She started, curious as to why he had just saved her. Holding his crutch under his arm, he shakily reached down to grab a firm hold under her arms and pulled her back into their cell. It was a slow and arduous process, but eventually he managed to dump her body onto his bunk and lean over her with Beatrice on hand.

Making sure to keep eye-contact with the dazed and confused woman, he let his crow hop off his shoulder and sit with her. "Keep looking at her, I'll be back in a moment."

Sejuani didn't know if he was talking to her or Beatrice, but she did as he commanded and stared at the bird. The bird looked at her with a tilted head as Swain reached under his bunk, pulling out a container of food, a bottle of water, and a dirtied rag.

"Okay, sit up." He said, holding her shoulders and helping her do so. Running his hand through her hair, he sprinkled the water onto the rag and placed it against her bruised head. Holding it down, he popped the food container open and speared a bit of mush.

"I-I don't want any..."

"You need to." He sighed, offering the food to her. She hesitantly opened her mouth ever so slightly, letting him slide the fork in between her lips. It tasted vile, almost rusty despite its squishy texture. She desperately wanted to spit it out, but Swain was being logical. "Eat it, come on."

"It tastes like shit..." She shuddered as she swallowed, wondering how much of the junk was even food. Swain patted her back comfortingly as Beatrice ruffled her feathers, hopping onto Sejuani's shoulder like she would with her master.

"Indeed, but it's good shit." He said, chuckling dryly. It sounded extremely strange coming from him, considering that he had spoken in complete monotone since she had arrived.

_It was actually quite funny._

_She couldn't resist a giggle._

It wasn't a hearty laugh befitting of a warrior woman, it was the gentle and soft laugh of a young girl.

_The girl that she had never been._

Offering her a swig from the bottle, he gently tilted it for her as her parched lips were wetted. She had been dying for water for days, and despite it being foul river water it was possibly the tastiest drink she had ever partaken in. Letting him dry her drenched lips with his sleeve, she sighed in fatigue.

"T-Thank you..." She smiled as he continued to wipe her forehead dry of sweat. He nodded absentmindedly as he worked, Beatrice stepping closer and nuzzling against her head lovingly.

Swain continued to feed her and tend to her wounds throughout the night, the inmates soundless as he did so.

The future was unknown for the two of them; a man likely in line for the guillotine and a woman who was to be extradited to her foes. She had been ravaged, beaten and bruised today, yet despite this pain she had at least succeeded in one thing.

At last her frozen heart had thawed.

X

(A/N): Another rushed ending for a potentially good idea :/

Anyway, I hope somebody enjoyed this. I'm pretty disappointed by how this turned out, but I needed something to dislodge my writers block. I can only hope that this is enough :P


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